Tiring Mornings

chapter one

Chapter one: Hannah Baxter

I smile widely, looking up at the University in front of me: the University of Toronto.

My smile wavers as someone bumps into my shoulder, knocking me to the side. I frown and balance myself out, both my fingers wrapped around the handle of my bags. I shake my head and look back up at the University; my smile returns, then.

I roll my bag forwards and hold them with one hand. Pulling the paper out of my pocket, I chew on my lip and read my dorm name and room number. I look around, eyes locking on the girls' dorm that I need to go to. Excitement bubbles up in my chest as I walk over, trying to avoid getting my shoulders bumped into. (Not successfully).

It's nerve-wracking; walking up to the glass door of my dorm on my own, whilst there's crowds of people walking around me. My parents had come with me, but I insisted that I could do this on my own - find my dorm and set everything in my room up. I was a bit hesitant with my decision - considering this was my first year and I wanted to do it alone. But I was independent and I had faith in myself.

I open the door and walk into the lobby of my dorm. There's girls in there, and a few guys. Most of them look like upperclassmen and they're all laughing, bags scattered around them. I smile shyly and a few people nod and smile at me; making me do the same back at them.

I walk - albeit quickly - through the dorm, trying to avoid knocking into anyone or bumping my bag into all the one's scattered around. When I get into the hallway, I grin to myself and walk down the carpet, my shoes padding along the soft floor. Another smile makes a way onto my face as I read the door numbers.

115..

116..

117..

I grin and twist the handle, happy to find that it's unlocked. Euphoria washes over me as I push the door open.

I frown when I see someone's bag thrown all over the bed on the right side of the room - but no one's there. I wheel my bags into my room and see bags and boxes stacked onto the bed. There's a charger and phone plugged into the wall. I wrack my brains to remember my roommates name.

"Amber!" I cry, snapping my fingers as I remember her name. I spin half-way around towards the door, partially expecting my roommate to show up. But she doesn't.

I sigh and drag my bags over to my bed and toss the bags on the mattress. I drop down onto my bed, not having the energy nor inclination to unpack my bags. Plus, it seems like Amber's done a bit for the room before she disappeared. There's curtains on the window and the small TV on the stand is partially plugged in, wires hanging out on the sides as if she got bored. Products are on the nightstand by her bed.

I groan and push myself up, exchanging my shoes for a pair of moccasins, conveniently located on the top of my bag. I heave another dramatic groan and stroll into the bathroom, glad to find that it's relatively big.

I open up the cabinet above the sink and see that the right half already has hair products and a few other things that, I'm assuming, belong to Amber. I smile, though, when I notice that all the products stop on the same spot; not going too far to the left. At least she's clean, I think, going back into my room to grab my bathroom bag.

I put my products on the left side, trying to be as organized as Amber was. I don't do well, though, and spend a majority of the time picking my products off the sink and the floor, struggling to make everything fit into the small space. I bit the inside of my lip and drop down, pulling open the cabinets below the sink.

Empty.

Perfect.

I grin and take the majority of my products from the cabinet, making my side look significantly cleaner. Satisfied, I stuff all of my products into my bag and gently toss it in the back of the cabinet under the sink. At least my Amber won't know I'm not the cleanest.